The Clock Strikes Thirteen
by Toraptor
Summary: Caught between an abusive family and a dark monster-infested forest, Isa chose the forest. He might just live to regret it.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Cross posting from AO3. A fusion of Beauty and the Beast and Cinderella.

_**TRIGGER WARNINGS: Eating disorders, violence, PTSD, depression, and anxiety.**_

* * *

**Chapter One: Meet the Skades**

Swimming in the ocean should have repulsed him, but all he found was wonder.

The world above the surface rippled, lazy rays of light swaying to and fro across the sandy bottom of the bay, turning his skin a motley blue that was somehow beautiful. A lurch in his stomach told him what he was doing was wrong, but the smile that spread across his face—a barring of teeth—told him it was absolutely right.

A swish of a tail, sand going up in plumes. It was gritty against his skin, tasting like copper in his teeth. He followed the flow of cooler water into a darker part of the bay, swerving around the dock support columns. Thumps of movement from above echoed through the water, muffled and hazy. People were stowing and unhooking ships, some finished with morning with fishing, others sailing for the thrilling freedom of the waves.

He coiled in the shadowy depths, keen eyes watching a man unwind rope with practiced ease, chatting amiably with his friend. Green eyes, honey-tanned skin, sun-bleached hair. Webbed fingers tapped along the floor, thick silt clouding the area.

Waiting wasn't such a pleasant experience, but he did so for the man. The friend eventually wandered off with a parting shot that had the man bellowing with laughter, and then turned toward the cove.

Another flick of his tail sent him in that same direction, following green eyes and honey skin, a secret smile on his lips. The cove was dark and cold, the waters chilling him to the point of discomfort, but rising towards the surface thawed him out enough.

He breached the surface of the ocean, the quiet lapping of water against stone echoing though the cove, webbed hands slapping against the end of a lone dock. A pair of green eyes awaited him, crinkled in a loving smile.

He returned it with a beaming one of his own.

"Hello, Myde."

* * *

The prettiest roses had the deadliest thorns.

Surrounded by rolling hills, a spattering of sizable ponds, and boasting one of the most well-cared gardens in the country, Skade Manor was a jewel. A successful business in children's toys kept the family vault full.

A paradise in the countryside, some called it.

Isa had another name for it:

Chores.

He cleaned after Lord Fendle's messes, kept Larxene's room fresh and aired, and made sure Lady Sennor wanted for nothing. Marluxia, for all his silk shirts and gourmet taste, preferred self-sufficiency. He was low maintenance.

Long ago, Isa hadn't been a servant. He was an eyesore to the family, turning into an ornament that no one wanted, but couldn't exactly leave on the roadside. So he was shoved into an attic and forgotten.

When an unexpected dip in the Skade fortune forced them to release all their payed servants, all heads turned to the one sorry schmuck in the family that wasn't worth anything. Little blue Isa, lonely and unloved, had been overjoyed to be useful. As all things did with time, he changed.

"Champagne," said Lady Sennor, not for celebration, but because decadence was her lifestyle and she loved the taste of champagne.

"Up twenty percent," rumbled Lord Fendle, a barrel-chested man who had more hair on one square inch of his arms than Isa did on his entire body. He was squinting at a slip of paper. "Not good, but we're recovering."

"I suppose that means new servants," said Larxene, delicately pushing away her glass of champagne, wrinkling her nose in an unflattering way.

"Not quite yet," said Lord Fendle, dashing Isa's hopes before they were even born. He took the wine glass from Isa, eyes fixed on the report. "We've a ways to go."

"Shame. We need a new one. The old one's pitiful."

"Marluxia, dear, why don't you put some of that back?" said Lady Sennor, smiling charmingly. "Do leave some of the meal for us."

Larxene cackled.

There wasn't an ounce of spare fat on Marluxia's willowy body, but that didn't stop him from putting away most of his food and nibbling weakly the rest of the meal. Isa felt a rare burst of sympathy for him. It lasted about two seconds, then died when he remembered the time Marluxia tried to force him to eat a mud cake. Common sense said they were eleven; everything else said screw that guy.

Mostly, he was annoyed. Marluxia not eating now meant he would undoubtedly call Isa for a snack at an inopportune time.

Eventually, the dull conversation petered out. The plates were cleared of food, seconds and thirds gone (with the exception of Marluxia), before Larxene pushed hers away.

"I'm going to check on the horses."

At least Isa never had to worry about being trampled to death by the horses. They were the one thing in the universe Larxene cared about.

Lady Sennor tutted once Larxene was out of earshot, disapproval in the sharp line of her lips. The pasty facsimile of a smile she sent Marluxia when he excused himself from the table would have turned Isa's gut inside out. As it was, Marluxia's returning smile was strained.

The clink of glasses and utensils filled the dining hall, as Isa waited for Lord Fendle and Lady Sennor to finish. They languidly picked at their plates, a polite chatter of conversation rolling over Isa's head. Eventually, they couldn't force themselves to eat—even for Isa's discomfort. He collected the plates, piling them in the sinks in the kitchen.

He would need to wash them, checking on the dwindling supply of soap. They would need more soon. Before he could get started on that, Larxene complained about the state of the entrance hall. Isa spent most of the evening mopping the floors and dusting, while she made a show of blowing her nose from the flurries of dust. By the time the floors were to her liking, Isa's shoulders were aching.

An overcast of dark blue was crawling over the sky, the first few stars blinking awake. He sighed, allowing him the briefest second to gaze at the moon, imprinting it into his memory. He drew the curtains closed.

Lady Sennor wanted an evening cup of tea. Marluxia was nowhere to be seen, so Isa scratched off a midnight snack. Lord Fendle was already asleep.

Halfway through brewing the tea, Lady Sennor changed her mind, and he was sent to the basement to fetch bottles of wine.

"Oh, I don't know what to do with your father," she mumbled around the rim of her cup.

She sat in the library, a pile of books on the table to her right, a fireplace crackling with warmth. The wine seemed to glow in the light.

"He sees nothing but numbers. I fear he's grown greedy."

She held out the glass. Isa poured her more.

"And your brother—pah! That boy can't do anything. Tending the flowers all day, hugging trees," she said, shaking her head. She gave a light giggle. "You do know I love all of you, though? Oh, I tease, dear, but you're all my children."

Tease was a nice way to put it. Marluxia was likely going to bed hungry again. Sometimes Isa wondered what went through his head when he looked in a mirror. It was probably better Isa didn't know.

"My darling Larxene, though, has a future! Pretty as a rose, quick as lightning, that one. She's my clever little girl."

Lady Sennor giggled again, her cheeks pink from the wine.

"More, more, dear."

The glass wobbled in her hand.

He poured the wine.

By the time Lady Sennor had fallen asleep, the night had steeped into Isa's bones. He thought of the dishes that lay unwashed in the sink, of the carpets that still needed sweeping, and of the breakfast that needed preparing. His heart weighed heavy in his chest. Heavier still were his steps as he dragged himself to the kitchens to at least prepare for breakfast.

He found the shattered remains of a broken vase on the floor instead. With a sigh, he set to picking up the shards, plucking them up carefully. He dropped the shards, wrapped in a cloth, into the garbage. The flowers once housed in the vase were tossed outside to become fertilizer for the ground.

The dishes, Isa decided, could wait. So could preparing breakfast. Just that once, he could get away with it.

Pandemonium reigned. Lady Sennor suffered a terrible migraine, Larxene couldn't find her best dress, Marluxia had already disappeared into the expansive gardens, and Lord Fendle left early for a hunt, leaving the manor and business to everyone else.

Isa woke late.

For a normal person, such an occurrence would not be a horrible thing. However, seeing as breakfast was not prepared, the dishes were not cleaned, and the entire Skade family was in a dark mood, it was a catastrophe. Because Isa was late, Larxene wasn't fed. Because Isa was late, Lady Sennor didn't get her migraine relief in time. Because Isa was late, the family fell apart.

He hurried through breakfast, left eggshells in the omlettes, and spilled most of the milk. Lady Sennor roared at him to get a move on, to get them their clothes and prepare their jewelry and shine their shoes.

However, despite what the Skades might say, the fault for the pandemonium that gripped the family didn't solely lie at Isa's feet. A messenger had arrived from the kingdom a short few hours ago with grave news.

In a little over two weeks, there would be a party to celebrate the princess's birthday.

Of course, the real reason for the party was obvious to everyone. She was coming of age and King Ansem, her father, would be looking for worthy suitors. Such a gathering could not be missed and as such, the Skade Family was in an uproar.

"You must speak with Lord Monfort," said Lady Sennor to Larxene over their breakfast. "Charm him. He's in possession of a rather impressive amount of wealth and I'd rather your father stop worrying about acquisitions."

Larxene nodded halfheartedly.

"Perhaps Lord Dechardes will take a liking to Marluxia-speaking of which, where is that boy?"

"The gardens," said Larxene.

"Pah!"

The scrapes of utensils against plates grated on Isa's nerves, the silence always allowing for the most annoying of noises to filter through. Lady Sennor's fork paused, her keen eyes turning to Isa.

"You will need to go back into town. The garbs we own now is not fitting for a royal party," she said. "See to it that the seamstresses—you know the ones, yes? The three women in town—have us made new ones. Larxene will need a dress fitting of a princess. Marluxia needs—well, he needs much, but the boy cleans up well. He'll need a suit. I will need something eye-catching, but not boorishly so. Same for your father."

She tapped her fork against the wine glass already half empty.

"Have you got this down?"

"I've got it memorized."

A tension headache radiated through his skull. He smiled through the pain.

There was no use putting off the visit to town, so he finished up the morning chores—drawing the curtains, dusting the entrance hall again (dust collected so quickly), setting aside a bottle of wine for Lady Sennor—and slipped into a pair of boots. It wasn't a very far walk to town, the road carrying him through the forest.

He enjoyed stealing away at night for walks down the road, soaking in the soft moonlight and watching as the forest twinkled at him, hundreds of fireflies putting on a private show. When he was younger, he imagined faeries watching over him.

Now, he was hurrying, unwilling to risk more ire than was already aimed at him. Even if he had time to tarry, the throbbing pain threatening to squeeze his brains out of his skull would have made it impossible. Walking alone was a hassle, each step sending another dull pulse through his head.

By the time he reached town, the sun was high in the sky, and his headache had evolved into a full migraine. Seeing as there was a party in the air, every bakery was preparing their best. A blend of aromas in the air that would have been heavenly at any other time, tormented his abused stomach. He swallowed a bout of nausea, making a beeline for the three seamstresses, Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather, also known as the Good Fairies.

After much tittering, giggles, pinching his cheeks, and "Oh, noes," he was out of their establishment with four new designs for the clothing. They were confident in their work, but Isa knew Lady Sennor and Larxene. They would complain about something, even if they had to find it.

He strayed through the market, ending up by the fountain by predestined instinct. Two children sat on the edge, biting into ice cream, giggling quietly to themselves. A smile lifted the corners of his lips despite himself.

Then he spotted a flash of silver.

Riku stood out in a crowd. Tall, pale for someone who spent every waking hour in the ocean, and silver-haired, it was impossible to miss him. Isa cut across the crowd, forgetting the children—what did they remind him of, again?—and rushed to catch up with him before he disappeared.

"Riku!"

He slowed to a stop. Isa leaned against a low wall, out of breath. He really needed to do something about his cardio. Chores weren't exactly great for body-building.

"Oh, hey," said Riku, eyeing him with a wry smile. "You okay?"

"Getting there," said Isa, returning the smile weakly. "I actually wanted to ask about Sora."

"Still sleeping," said Riku.

Six months ago, that statement would have been delivered with a rueful laugh, a light flush of his cheeks. A pall hung over Riku, his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes desperate. Sora had fallen into a coma months ago and had yet to awaken.

"No changes?"

"The doctors can't figure it out. He's just—sleeping."

Riku rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"We're getting by, day to day. But it's weighing on the others."

Toward the back of the market, the sounds of arguments drew their attention. Ventus and Vanitas, the twins, and the living personification of good and evil. The oldest of the two, Ventus, was a ball of sunshine; the younger was Vanitas, who probably drowned puppies on his free time.

A new voice joined them, light and exasperated, "They always argue."

"Xion," said Isa in greeting.

She smiled, offering him an ice cream.

"Do you just randomly buy these things?" said Isa, accepting the treat regardless. It was cold and perfect for the heat, and served to ease the tension in his head. "Too much sugar isn't good for you, you know."

"I'm still young," said Xion, as Riku took the third ice cream.

They let the hum of town life flow around them as they enjoyed the ice cream. Eventually, it was disturbed by Vanitas dumping a bucket of water over a woman's head, running away with wild laughter. More dismaying was Ventus, running with him, also grinning in triumph. They were a bad influence on each other.

Water-drenched, the woman charged after them a short distance, before giving up. She stewed hotly, yelling that she planned to tell their guardians how they were acting, and then they would be sorry.

Xion took a bite out of her ice cream and with a muffled voice said, "Think she really knows where we live?"

"Doesn't really matter," said Riku. "Aqua doesn't believe Ventus can do wrong, and Terra wouldn't do anything even if he did."

"I can't get over how many people you have living under that one roof," Isa laughed incredulously.

"Can't be much worse than taking care of four people," said Xion, her tone light, but her gaze was hard and focused on nothing in the plaza.

The papers crinkled as Isa shifted them in his arms, angling the ice cream away so it wouldn't melt on them. He took another bite, avoiding the eyes that turned to him. Sometimes, he wished he didn't have friends that were so nice and helpful, wanting to pull him out of an impossible situation. Sometimes they were so kind, it was overwhelming. Yes, he wanted to leave. No, he couldn't. He was well aware it didn't make sense.

It had started years ago, when Isa was a boy and just met Riku and Sora. The two boys were carefree as any other, unable to understand why Isa didn't just spend all day with them around the bay. He didn't go to school, nor did he train with anyone for specialized skills. So, then, why couldn't Isa play?

"I must be getting back now," said Isa.

Xion let out a hum in response, looking for all the world to not be listening. She wasn't happy.

"They aren't terrible," he said, which proved to be a mistake.

"They make you do everything," she said. "A family is supposed to work together."

"We do," he protested, even as he berated himself for sounding so weak.

Riku rested a hand on his shoulder, the callouses rough against Isa's bare shoulders. A strong part of him wanted to lean into the touch.

"Just remember, don't hesitate if you need a place to crash for a couple days. We'd be glad to have you."

Between the stress of Sora's coma, Terra's inability to hold down a job, and Ventus and Vanitas's antics, he knew they all had far too much on their plate to handle another mouth to feed. He nodded regardless, accepting the offer as it was, and excused himself with a slight bow. He could feel their eyes on his back as he left the plaza, and ironed the warmth of Riku's hand into his memory.

Along the way, he bumped into a man with sandy hair, drawing a hasty apology from the stranger, before he disappeared down the road in the direction of the bay. He stared after the man's rapidly retreating back, and then continued toward the edge of town.

With the designs secured, he half-walked, half-jogged the rest of the way to the manor. A chorus of birds sang cheerfully. He yearned to stop and listen, picking out each bird and identifying the species. Colorful wild flowers flourished along the road's edge, the forest line kissed by magic. It was the knowledge that he'd lingered long enough speaking to Xion and Riku that had him passing by the birds and flowers.

He tried jogging up the sloping hill to the manor, but stopped a quarter of the way, his lungs heaving painfully. He glared balefully at the sun.

Inside the manor was blessedly cool. He heard Larxene yelling about something, heading to her room with great, angry strides. A sigh escaped him. Inside the library, as usual, he found Lady Sennor, already halfway to drunk.

"Mother, I have—"

"Not now," she snapped. "Where is your father? I need him."

"I haven't—"

"Well, then, get him!"

He laid the designs on a table by the wall, heaving another tired sigh ("Stop that huffing before you blow the manor down!"), and set to finding Lord Fendle. Last Isa knew, he was a hunting, so that meant he could have been anywhere on the grounds. He searched the manor out of vain hope he was indoors.

"Isa!" barked Larxene when she saw him peering around curtains. "Where are those designs?"

"They're with Mother," he replied absently, looking inside a broom closet. No Lord Fendle there, either.

"What the devil are you doing?"

"Looking for Father."

"Ugh."

At the barest mention of Lord Fendle, she vanished. Larxene didn't get along well with anyone, least of all their parents. Had she not been Lady Sennor's favored, Isa might sympathize with her, but she was and had no reason to hate them.

Bitter and defeated by the manor, Isa poked his head outside. The sun threatened to beat him into the ground. He groaned, closing the door behind him. Despite the intense heat, he looked up and down the grounds thoroughly, by every pond and tree and place he knew Lord Fendle frequented during his hunts. He even stopped by the birding range, cringing at the remains of recently shot pigeons. Pity drove him to collect their bodies and set them aside, away from the area of massacre.

Isa circled the manor three times and was forced to admit it: he had lost Lord Fendle.

There was one last place he could have gone, but—

Isa stared into the murky depths of the forest. The summertime sun had darkened the leaves to the point the canopy blocked out nearly all light. Inside, there was a thick tangle of underbrush. Gnarled branches grasped at nothing. His eyes were tired from the sun and searching, giving movement to the shadows. He looked away quickly.

He would search for Lord Fendle later. It was getting nigh time for him to prepare dinner.

Turning on his heels, he headed back for the manor.

A crack shot through the air, followed by the cascading sound of an enormous tree falling. There wasn't even the slightest wisp of a breeze, nor had there been heavy rain recently. The forest groaned.

Isa never looked back, though he did walk a little faster.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fate's Designs**

The manor was quiet when Isa returned from his fruitless search, so he made a beeline for the kitchen in an attempt to avoid anyone before dinner. He almost believed he'd make it, the door in sight, only for Larxene to come barreling down the stairs.

"Isa! Where are those designs?"

Of course, they were left in the library with Lady Sennor, who had yet to peruse them. He didn't like the idea of disturbing her, so he slipped in and out of the library. She was lost in a book, evening sunlight turning her hair copper, unaware of his presence. When he returned to Larxene with the papers, she pawed through them hurriedly, her eyes narrowing with every detail she absorbed.

Eventually, she settled into an unreadable expression, which Isa took as a very bad sign. At the very least, he liked to know what she was thinking.

"Tell the Good Fairies to start over," she said, curling her upper lip in distaste. "Tell them I don't want to look like a pineapple."

"Understood," he said.

She only sneered in reply, carrying up the stairs in such a storm it was a wonder she didn't visibly throw sparks.

Isa rummaged through a cabinet in Lord Fendle's office for a quill and ink to write down Larxene's suggestion. There was a chance he could get that out of the way and hurry to the kitchen before someone else stopped him.

"Oh, there you are."

Marluxia stepped in the office and Isa slammed the cabinet shut with a little more force than necessary.

"Yes?" he said.

"Well, then—one would think you're in a rotten mood, with that tone," said Marluxia placidly. Do that again and you'll be fed deadly nightshade, said his frosty smile.

Despite the obvious threat to his life, Isa all but flung the designs at Marluxia, tired and hungry and temperamental to care. It wasn't as though he'd actually carry it out. Only one person in the house knew how to fix poached eggs and it wasn't Marluxia.

"They will do perfectly," said Marluxia, running a finger up and down the design. He paused on the lapel. "Well, almost perfectly. I suppose a pocket could be sown here. A splash of color-a rose, perhaps—would be lovely. Write that down."

There were plenty inkwells and quills in the office. Isa almost pointed it out, but he'd already pushed far enough that day. Once that was finished, the notes transcribed to Marluxia's specific liking, Isa was left to his duties again. With both his siblings placated, nothing stood between Isa and dinner.

"Oh! Dear, there you are."

Isa forced a smile as he turned to face Lady Sennor, who glided up the staircase outside Lord Fendle's office.

"Yes, mother?"

"Where are those designs? I'm afraid I snapped at you earlier, my apologies."

The papers were slightly crinkled when he offered them to her, and when she turned them down, he thought that was the reason—until she directed them toward the library. Plumes of dust hung in the library, the sunlight ever waning as the day wore on (did they or did they not want their dinner before midnight?). Lady Sennor eased into a chair by one of the tall, imposing windows and beckoned him closer.

She smiled, warm as the light outside, and Isa relaxed slightly despite himself. This was the woman who used to bandage his bruised knees when he was a child. He took the seat opposite of her and allowed himself to hope nothing but good would come of it.

Whatever she saw in the designs, they weren't to her liking, as her eyebrows steadily crept farther and farther up. A short little laugh escaped her when she saw Larxene's, holding a hand over her mouth.

"Well, then!" she exclaimed. "These are hideous. Do those women even know what they're doing? Take them back, dear me. I look like a crystal ball."

He gathered up the papers, going to stand.

"No, wait," she said, and he plopped back down, eyes wide. He hadn't had a full length conversation with her in years. "I'd love some biscuits and wine, dear. Fetch them for me?"

The cold plummet his heart took should not have happened, but it did, and he loathed himself for it.

He returned with wine and biscuits, only to be sent off again for a quill and ink. Expecting another order, he waited by the table, a yoke of bitterness hanging off his shoulders. She marked up the designs again, stopping at Marluxia's lapel note.

"Pah! The boy thinks he knows better."

She crossed out the note, and Isa made one of his own: double-check all his food for poison for the next two months.

"It's better plain. Larxene shall be our crowning jewel for the party."

The quill scratched across the papers. Lady Sennor tapped the thin lines, rubbing her forehead lightly, and then sighed.

"More wine, dear."

The crimson wine sloshed as she snatched it up to drink.

"Your father," she spat. "The man will be the death of me. He does the same thing over and over and expects a different result. Negotiating with Duke Dechalons is impossible, but he insists on targeting the man like a dog with a bone!"

She tore the bottle out of Isa's hand, pouring herself more wine. He clasped his hands at his stomach tightly to stop their trembling.

"Our fortune dwindles by the day. Within a year, we shall be destitute. Much of our plans hinged on your sister getting married, but we've all seen how that useless endeavor would pan out—"

Larxene had pitched the fit of legends upon hearing they planned to arrange a marriage. The screams of rage still rang through Isa's ears and the damage she'd done to her room took him nearly a week to patch up. He'd had to order her an entire new wardrobe when she burned them. And then she'd cut her hair.

"And Marluxia—pah! That boy shows no talent for diplomacy and loves nothing but his flowers. If he spends anymore time in that garden of his, he'll turn into a petunia! He'll not be carrying our empire anywhere. And your Father, when he should be making business deals, spends his every minute of free time hunting fowl."

Lines of stress had deepened on Lady Sennor's face as of late. All those little worries had a habit of boiling over, spilling over the edges.

"Where is he now, anyway? At least working through the papers, I should hope," she said, turning her glare on Isa so quickly he spasmed, wringing his sleeve around his wrist so tightly it cut off the circulation.

He'd forgotten she sent him out to search for Lord Fendle earlier.

"He's not in the manor," said Isa, mouth dry.

"Then where is he?!"

The wine was not helping her mood. It rarely did, but there were some days it seemed to bring up good enough memories she held off from snapping at him.

Pressure was building up inside him, a clamor of wrongness flooding his head and shutting out rational thought. It was a labor of effort, but he managed to mumble, "I don't know."

The resulting explosion was expected and unpleasant. It wouldn't have been so terrible, but Lady Sennor had a way of transfixing him, her face growing dark and her eyes flashing, vipers jumping from her words.

"I don't need this right now," she said, lifting her hands to her temples, staring blankly out the window, "I don't need this. Not from you. "

"Mother, I haven't had—" "Had what?" she snapped. "Tools? Money? Time? We've, all of us, struggle with those, but somehow the only one disappointing me is you, and you haven't even got real responsibilities!"

He's already dug his grave deep enough to die in, so he decided: why stop there?

"Then give me responsibilities!" he said, despite the thundercloud brewing over Lady Sennor's face. "I could leave a few of the duties to Marluxia or Larxene, and then I could—"

"Your brother and sister have never done a chore in their life," she scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"It's just the grounds, not the inside, and anyway—"

" 'Just the grounds' — our livelihood depends on our appearance! It is all we have left, why we are alive, and you would leave it to fall into disrepair? Under what? Marluxia's tender hands?"

"Marluxia—"

"Could hardly handle a papercut without crying," she sneered.

"Let me finish—"

"Do not use that tone of voice with me!"

"I could find extra work and help!" he burst out, already regretting everything and wishing he could take it back, but it was far, far too late for that. "I could get a job."

He sounded small and pathetic and he'd never hated himself more than he did in that moment.

A shadow fell over her face, leaving her eyes dark and cold, her mouth twisting into a frown. He could hardly breathe, waiting for her response. She drew a long sip from her wine glass, a perfect image of composure, and Isa teetered on the edge of blind panic.

"Get a job."

It was a mockery, sinking deep into wounds Isa hadn't even known were there, let alone hurting. She sounded more amused than angry, and it was so much worse.

"When was the last time you've left this manor outside o picking something up in town? You couldn't get a job, if it was cleaning the waste from horse stalls. I'll not have your blundering through town dragging the Skade name even further through mud."

She turned her back to him, taking up a book, and the conversation was over. Bitterness churned hotly in Isa's stomach and he swallowed a retort that tasted like bile. As he waited to be dismissed, she worked her way through the wine.

The library was filled with the sound of rustling pages. She sighed again.

"You sound just like him when you say those things. Your father."

Isa's father. Not to be mistaken with Lord Fendle, who had joined the family five years after the unfortunate passing of Lady Sennor's first husband. He had scarce few memories of his birth father, short of knowing they shared the same blue hair.

"He never liked to pull his own weight. You even look like him," she whispered over the rim of her glass, staring over the book into the fireplace. Isa dreaded to know what was going through her head.

She was half right. While Isa had his father's colors, the aristocratic angles of his face and the slenderness of his stature could only come from Lady Sennor.

He waited until she was so deep into her drink that she no longer cared about pretenses, demanding the wine bottle from him. Once she had the bottle, he made a beeline for the door, not bothering to ask whether or not he was dismissed.

Lost in her drink, she never noticed he left.

* * *

Dinner clinked across the table with drinks and silver platters. A roast of impressive quality, if Isa said so himself, was laid out and surrounded by greens and mash. A flaming pudding was prepared for dessert. With any luck, the sweet would serve to sooth some ruffled feathers after the events of the past day.

He never searched for Lord Fendle again that day. Not a moment after he'd fled Lady Sennor, Larxene ambushed him and demanded dinner. Some deity must've it found it terribly funny that he finally made his way to the kitchen, but didn't want to be there.

Lady Sennor was still pink-cheeked from her wine, babbling through the dinner, while Marluxia cringed around his green beans. Larxene poked at her roast with a bored expression.

"Where is that man?" said Lady Sennor, twisting around in a decidedly unladylike manner to search for Lord Fendle, as though he'd pop out of a grandfather clock. "Isa, have you seen him?"

"I'm afraid not," said Isa.

"Didn't I send you to search for him?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Keep it up and you'll be regretting it, boy."

Larxene rolled her eyes.

"What're you going to do? Lock him in the attic? Then who'll fix our breakfast?"

"Quiet yourself, young lady." Lady Sennor snapped her attention back to Isa, who straightened his back on default. "At least you made time to have the Good Fairies update the designs, yes? I should like to see them."

Ice lodged in his insides. He'd certainly had no time for that—he'd barely had time to cook an impressive dinner, let alone take a trip to town. Even as he reached wildly for a way to salvage the situation, he knew there wasn't one. The three pairs of eyes on him felt like white-hot pokers and he couldn't push down the building pressure.

"Now?" he said, hoping he was imagining the mangled sound of his voice. If he suddenly lost it—

He tried desperately to stop his hands shaking, fiddling uselessly with his shirt, only to realize that was as telling as anything, and dropped them to his sides. Nervous energy built up in him, causing him to stutter halfway through his explanation. Lady Sennor was as fast as a hungry shark, the argument was lost before it even began.

"You have known your father was missing all day—and you've done NOTHING?!" she was half out of her seat, hands braced on the table, her face flushed. "After I explicitly told you to find him TWICE? Did you think it was optional? Do you think you live under this roof by the rights of your birth? The world doesn't reward you things like a roof over your head and food in your belly and a bed to sleep on because you were born in it! You work for those things!"

A sharp sting tore through his fingers. He looked down to see the skin on his fingers scratched raw and bleeding.

"Don't you look away from me, young man," snapped Lady Sennor, her noble face twisted in a beastly scowl. He forced himself to look her in the eyes, wide and striking him like gray lightning. "You do not have it nearly as terrible as you think you do. Oh, it could be so much worse, you ungrateful child."

He gripped the sides of his tunic shirt in attempt to stop tearing his skin apart. He thought of Riku and Xion. He thought of sea-salt ice cream. He though about running away.

"Now, you get those papers," Lady Sennor whispered, deadly and deliberate, and he was transfixed on the quiet fury that had replaced her former bluster. "You get those papers. And you walk out that door. You don't—come—back—"

"Mother!" gasped Marluxia.

She gave a wordless snarl, silencing him instantly.

"You don't come back," she reiterated, "until you get your father's worthless hide back here. And then you'll go to your room. You'll stay there, until I decide what to do with you. Am I understood?"

Isa's breath hitched spasmodically, unable to stop himself trembling anymore, his throat growing painfully tight. Hot tears sprang to his eyes and, horrified as he was, he could do nothing about them. Words pushed up his throat and fell back down into a muddle of nameless feelings and wordless thoughts.

"AM I UNDERSTOOD?"

He nodded, over and over, clutching his stomach and doubling over, hoping she was content with that alone. She sneered at the display, but didn't force him to verbally respond. Small mercies.

"You can't be serious," Larxene snarled, also rising to her feet. "Who's going to drag your worthless ass wine every fifteen minutes?"

Lady Sennor's mouth hung agape, stunned speechless by Larxene's language. It took her all of thirty seconds to regain herself, the tides drawing back, and then she launched. The battle was short and brutal. Isa's ears were ringing. Larxene threw her platter, the food smashing against the wall. She kicked the chair back and stormed out of the dining hall.

Slowly, quietly, Marluxia stood from his seat. His meal was untouched. Not a single glance was spared for Isa, as he left the dining hall with Larxene.

"GET OUT!" Lady Sennor finally howled, stabbing her finger at the doors. "OUT!"

Isa whirled, scrambling over himself, half tripping over the door jamb, only to remember he needed the papers. He bruised his shin going up the stairs, dropped the papers with his jerky motions. He slammed through the entrance doors, flying over the lawn with the designs clutched to his side, leaving the doors swinging open.

Halfway to the forest road, he heard someone calling after him. Wild-eyed, he spun around, so abruptly that Marluxia took a step back.

"Isa," he said, looking worn and older than someone his age. Sucking in a breath, he braced himself, only to snap his mouth shut again. He had ran out without shoes on, Isa noticed, as he shifted from foot to foot on the dry, sharp grass. A thousand words seem to flurry in his eyes, but none of them were just right, apparently. His slightly sagging shoulders was the only evidence of his sigh. "Lay low a few days. I can wear her down."

No, he couldn't, and Isa knew it without a doubt. Bird-thin bones were wrapped in silken shirts and soft cloths, mirrors turned and then not turned, a meal was left uneaten. Marluxia, unable to help even himself, could do nothing for Isa.

"She's in a mood," said Marluxia. "Once father is back, she'll calm down."

Isa tried to feel like Marluxia cared, but when his blue eyes stared right through Isa, seeing something else, he failed. He nodded, feeling like a dearly departed ghost, and flitted off toward the road. When he looked back, Marluxia was gone.

The sky was dusky periwinkle, the deepest shade of midnight starting at the horizon. A few starts were just blinking to life. He was halfway through the thickest part of the forest before the shadows between the trees and skeletal branches finally grasped him. Step by step, Lady Sennor's words faded from his mind, and something else filled it.

He could hardly see anything, barring the paleness of the road. He blinked once, squeezing his eyes shut hard. Something could be in front of him and he'd never know.

His eyes flew open.

He reminded himself that nothing but trees lay around him, but it was too late. Faeries had turned to ghouls in his head. Every step thundered with his heartbeat. He kept glancing back, expecting to see eyes in the forest. Nothing flew out at him.

Satisfied nothing had followed him, to turned forward.

A hulking shadow moved over the road.

Lightning struck through his stomach. He stood stock-still. So did the shadow, round and mountainous. He blinked hard, willing it to go away, very carefully containing the rising panic inside of him. He strained his eyes, trying to make out the outline, to turn it into something normal.

It moved. That was no deer, and bear weren't native to the area.

Again, it moved out of place. It melted into the shadows on the other side of the road.

No, Isa realized, it had become the shadows, hidden in every nook and cranny. Every twitch and sigh of the forest was a monster ready to leap out and maul him. His was suddenly very aware of his heart beating in his chest, the blood flowing through his veins.

He forced himself to walk—predators were hardwired to attack fast-moving targets, weren't they? He couldn't run, he couldn't run, he couldn't run, no matter how he longed to—and every step like the march to the gallows.

A branch snapped in the forest. Isa doubled over, hands over his head, waiting for claws and teeth and death.

He didn't die, but every bit of composure was gone. The fear lancing through his stomach was a prophecy, a screamed warning: move, move, move, and so he did.

The first flickering lights of town appeared ahead of him, so far away, and he wasn't going to make it. Something followed him close behind—he felt it, a pressure against his back, phantom teeth tearing into his neck.

Flagged stones pounded under his feet, echoing off the empty streets. He recognized a door and raced for it, expecting never to make it.

He slammed against the door, ramming his fist on it.

Then he whirled around, eyes blown wide, and found—

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

The night was perfectly quiet. Warm candlelight lit the windows of a few night owl townspeople. Overhead, the kindly twinkle of stars shone down on him. Shadows that were no longer hollow and empty crept in the corners, held back.

Perhaps it was the knowledge there were people in nearly in every house, or the fact he was in a town, or the candles that allowed him to see, but he finally started to relax.

The door opened behind him and he turned around with a gasp.

"Isa?"

It was Aqua.

He could sob with relief, just barely stopping himself from begging to be let in. He couldn't imagine how he looked to her, ashen-faced and panting from his dead sprint.

"I—I—"

Words stuck in his throat and he wanted to scream from pure frustration. His hands jerked weakly behind him, as though that could convey the message of everything that happened. Tight and painful, his throat refused a single word.

"Why don't you come in?" said Aqua, opening the door wider, concern flashing on her face. "Sit down, I'll put a kettle on for tea."

He gratefully sank onto one of the sofas, clasping his hands tightly in his lap. The door clicked shut and his shoulders sagged. The walls of a home, cozy and warm as Aqua's was, seemed too sacred to be threatened by any manner of beast.

"What's going on? Isa?"

Terra stepped into the living area, dressed in mussed nightclothes, the large shirt slipping off one shoulder. He yawned into his palm, stretching and treating both Aqua and Isa to a nice view of his abdomen. Once Terra was up and about, Vanitas and Ventus were never long to follow, and then Xion and Riku would always be close behind to make sure they stayed out of trouble. Sooner than later, the living area was packed full.

Six pairs of eyes bored into the side of Isa's head, as he determinedly tried to enjoy his tea. His hands were shaking too much.

A sudden weight on the other side of the sofa rocked Isa gently, Terra's gaze going from inquisitive to worried.

"Did something happen?"

"Give us a name and place," said Vanitas, slamming a fist into his palm. "I'll take care of 'em. They'll wish they never saw you."

Isa opened his mouth to explain, only to stop short. There were no words that could grasp the terror he'd felt in that forest. He wasn't even certain he could properly describe what he'd seen. The fears he'd felt in the manor paled in comparison to what he felt on the road to town, but he didn't have to fake the frustration and helplessness.

Nor did he have to fake the fear, when he realized finding Lord Fendle would include searching the forest. The tea started burning a hole through his stomach and he set the cup down, appetite lost.

"Maybe this isn't the time for questions," Aqua murmured, grabbing a blanket off the edge of the sofa and draping it over Isa's shoulders. "Try and get some rest."

A better person wouldn't intrude. They would at least insist they shouldn't, before inevitably giving into the kindness of their friends. Isa wasn't a better person. He nodded and drew the blanket closer around his shoulders.

The others slowly trickled off back to bed, leaving only Terra, who shuffled around awkwardly with a candle in hand.

"Do you mind if I keep this lit? Since I'm awake, I have some reports I needed to finish."

It was glaringly obvious that Terra's reasoning wasn't papers. The grasping dark was overpowering in its strength, though, so Isa didn't argue. Sitting hunched at a desk, Terra pulled out a folder and got to work. The steady scratch of the quill filled the silence and within minutes, Isa was asleep.


End file.
